What Could Have Been: Rule FiftyOne
by CSIGurlie07
Summary: A little piece of AU fluff based off a picture I saw on the CBS website of Ziva taking her oath. Better explanation inside. One-Shot.


___**This chapter is dedicated to today's birthday girl, Zivacentric. I would sing, but it wouldn't translate well into text, as bad as my actual singing is... I'd prolly get the blue screen of death if I tried.**_

_A/N: I came up with this after trying to watch the finale yesterday. I only got through half of it that day, but I was graced with a picture of Ziva taking her oath (courtesy of the CBS NCIS page) and it was so pretty and I saw it right before I finally gave up on the episode for the day, so it was all I really had to go off of for the whole day. And me being me, and being bored on three hours of guard duty, I had to write SOMETHING. So I wrote this. _

_It is essentially what I pictured happening in the final part of the finale, based solely on the Ziva picture. I have since seen the finale, and now know that what happened is VASTLY different from what I wrote. But I like my version better so I'm posting it. It is in cahoots with my story Something More, but I'm deciding to keep that one canon (expect some Gibbs-bashing for him missing the damn ceremony entirely... grrr) so this wouldn't fit there. So it's a stand alone at this part. It's kind of like that Aliyah story, though I feel more strongly about this one- it's more than a what if... It frakking SHOULD have happened this way!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Standing in line with the others, she stood out like a swan among wood ducks.

Clad in a simple but elegant outfit, her hair was gently curled about her shoulders—obviously styled with care, though he would have preferred to see her natural curls instead—and her warm brown eyes sparkled with something he had not seen for some time.

Happiness.

Pure, unadulterated happiness.

In the past weeks, before Bell, before Mexico, before everything that had worked to end everything he held dear, things had been good. Easy, even. And in those weeks, she had smiled, and laughed, and he had seen happiness in her eyes. But the happiness on those days had always been laced with something dark.

By the ever-present awareness that she was beyond lucky to be so happy. That she was even _alive_ to be so lucky to be so happy.

Gibbs was certain that no one else taking that oath was aware of what she'd been through. The loss, the peril, the heartbreak and confusion that had come from being torn in two so very different directions for so long. None of that could be seen now, in the late afternoon sun that caressed her form. Odds were, she was not the only inductee to have seen such hardships. Hell, she probably wasn't even the only one to have personally suffered at the hands of terrorists.

But she was so beautiful, so professional with her shoulders square and her back proudly straight. There was nothing to distinguish her from the hundreds of Americans in the rest of the building, or the thousands that rushed by on the street outside. She was just as American as everyone else, despite the little gold star that had recently returned to adorn her neck. The ceremony and the oath was only a formality.

Gibbs couldn't stop grinning as he looked on, especially when he noticed her gaze returning to him again and again, her own smile growing each time their eyes met. She tried to focus on the suit speaking, but Gibbs knew she was more appreciative of her own personal audience than of the rote speech, for Gibbs was not the only one who had come to witness the momentous occasion.

Abby stood beside him, her pale arm looped though his own muscular one. White teeth gleamed from between painthing black lips, and the Goth fairly vibrated with excitement. McGee stood on her other side, his own grin clearly evident. DiNozzo, Ducky, and Palmer were lined up on Gibb's other side, filling out the ranks of Team Gibbs. And no doubt Vance was somewhere as well, witnessing the event from some CCTV vantage—no, Gibbs corrected himself abruptly. The Director was there as well, standing surreptitiously in the back, behind an elderly couple with tears in their eyes.

Vance looked to Gibbs for a moment, and a silent nod passed between them before Gibbs shifted his focus back to Ziva.

It struck him as odd, Gibbs reflected. Vance had no tie to Ziva, save through his relationship with her father. Ziva had come to NCIS under Jenny's administration, through the relationship she had already shared with the Agency's first female Director. And she had stayed because of the trust Gibbs had given her after she killed Ari. Vance had never know Ziva on a personal level, and it was unlikely that they ever would—she was too wary of the obvious connection Vance had with her father to be anything less than professionally distant. And Vance had been the first to point out her status as a security risk to both the agency and the nation.

And yet, here he was, standing in on a ceremony for her as a father should have.

Proud voices rose through the room, and the words of the memorized oath drifted over the audience. Hands rose, and within moments the oath of fealty was sworn, and then the hands drifted back down. The suit began talking again, in a droning monotone that spoke of years of delivering it over and over. But it did nothing to dampen the spirits of Team Gibbs. Abby bounced against Gibbs, and he knew that she was itching to go give her friend a hug. Even McGee was anxious to display his approval and support, though the others were somewhat more stoic behind their broad grins and sparkling eyes.

But a moment later the group was congratulated over the loudspeakers, and Ziva was turning towards them, her eyes glistening in the florescent lighting of the assembly room. And then she was nearly taken off her feet when Abby bowled her over, fierce long arms wrapping around the new American's neck as the Goth squealed her happiness. Ziva laughed when Tim refused to wait for Abby to finish her affections, instead wrapping his arms around both women at once.

Tony joined them then, though he refrained from joining in the group hug until Abby tugged him over. Within moments Palmer was included, and for an all too brief moment, Gibbs was afforded an unobstructed view of the strange, eccentric, but loving family they'd somehow managed to create.

And Gibbs knew then that Ziva would never again have to worry about being alone.

Ziva knew it too, if the tears she wiped away as the group parted to give him access to her was any indication.

Tony's hands rested on her shoulders, proudly displaying his partner for the boss' approval.

"So, what do you think of our newest citizen, bossman?" he asked jovially. "You know what that means, don't you?" The last was directed towards Ziva herself, who looked at him with a quizzical gaze.

"No more Probie status," McGee supplied, a smile curling his lips. "You are now an official NCIS Special Agent."

Brown eyes widened, and then flashed to Gibbs in a mixture of excitement and disbelief. He nodded once.

"I just spoke with Vance," he told her, his voice firm and reassuring. "It's official, final, and immutable."

"But Vance-" Ziva's objection was cut off before she could finish, her concern already well-known to Gibbs.

"Will have to get approval from both the Secretary of the Navy, Secretary of Defense, and the Secretary of State to terminate your contract," Gibbs informed. "He agreed to an extra clause before he signed... just in case someone decided to try manipulating him into doing anything." He didn't have to explain who that someone could be- her father.

"I- do not know what to say," she said finally, her eyes welling with new tears.

Gibbs shook his head, closing the last few steps between them with purposeful strides. She watched him come, and he knew she could read him just as easily as she always had. She could see his intent, and remained still as she allowed him to decide just how affectionate he would be in front of the others. Her hesitation alone was more than enough to tell Gibbs that she wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind.

And suddenly, so did he.

He strode towards her and as soon as he was in reach wrapped an arm around her waist, his other hand burying itself in her hair as he pulled her in to plant a firm and blatant kiss on her lips.

He could feel the surprise in her lips, but there was no hesitation on her part. Her own arms wrapped around his neck, her hand pulling his head down as she fully committed to the public display of affection.

Abby cheered softly, her hands clapping together, and when Gibbs finally pulled back a few long moments later, his eyes lifted slightly to see the Goth beaming as she leaned over to whisper in McGee's ear. The younger agent's grin was shocked, but not entirely surprised or disapproving. DiNozzo captured his attention a moment later, and Gibbs could see the slighly blank of blind-sided shock that always seemed to precede a kneejerk reaction that was almost always ended badly.

But to his surprise, his senior field agent merely blinked, and looked towards his boss with a gaze that held so many emotions- disappointment, self-loathing, guilt, but also, above all, acceptance. He shrugged, and then a nod was passed to the older man, who recieved it with a knowing and appreciative gaze of his own. There would be issues in the future, that much was certain, but today, Ziva's happiness came first.

He looked back down at Ziva, and found her staring back at him with absolutely no qualms about what had just been outed to the entire team.

"You don't have say anything, Ziver," he whispered gently, running his thumb over her cheek. "I am so proud of you."

"I could not have done any of this without you, Jethro," she returned with a smile that spoke of more than simple appreciation. Her hand stroked the back of his neck with tender familiarity. "Thank you."

Their eyes met for a long moment, and then their intimacy was broken by Abby's excited exclamation.

"Let's go have lunch you guys!" she suggested happily. "It's on me, and Ziva gets to choose where." She turned toward the celebrant in expectation. "So, Ziva, our new Miss America, where would you like to eat. Anywhere you want."

"Except falafel," Tony quipped, earning himself a sharp elbow in the ribs for his efforts.

Abby glared at him. "Hush Tony. Today is Ziva's day. She can have falafel if she wants."

"Actually, Abby," Ziva said, turning away from Gibbs to face her friend. "I think I would rather have a cheesesteak."

Dark eyebrows furrowed. "You have your pick of any high end restaurant in DC, and you choose cheesesteaks?" she asked. When Ziva nodded, Abby shrugged. "Good enough for me! Let's go!"

The others chimed their agreement, and began to move towards the door. Gibbs kept his arm around Ziva's waist, reveling in the feel of her body heat bleeding into his. He was surprised, however, when she suddenly stopped short a few feet shy of the door. He turned towards her, and found her eyes hooded, her head bowed ever so slightly.

"Ziver?" he asked gently, his voice low enough to remain unnoticed by the others that had drifted on ahead of them. "You okay?"

For a second, she didn't respond, but then she flipped her hair over her shoulder with forced calm. "I need to use the head," she said quickly. Before Gibbs could even appreciate the piece of lingo she had picked up from him over the years, she was gone, disappearing into the milling crowd in the direction of the ladies room.

He watched her go, and then saw Abby come beside him, her attention similarly occupied.

"Is she okay, Gibbs?" she asked softly. "I know she's been working on this for a long time and everything, and she says she's happy-"

"She is, Abs." And she was. Gibbs had seen it in her eyes.

"But haven't you ever been happy and sad at the same time Gibbs? To be happy for something new in your life, but then feel sad for what you had to lose in order to make room for it?"

Brief flashes of Shannon and Kelly drifted over him, and he knew exactly what Abby meant. Too much of his life was like that- he should have seen it coming. Giving his scientist a one-armed hug, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"I'll go get her," he said gently. "Keep the others occupied for a few minutes."

"Aye aye, _mon capitan_!" Abby repsonded, giving him a light push. "Go work your magic."

And go he did, and disregarding the triangular stick lady of the door sign he pushed into the woman's bathroom without hesitation. His eyes found her the second he turned towards the sinks- she stood in front of on that was running water full blast, but it didn't seem as though she had used it yet. One hand rested against the porcelain rim of the sink, propping her up as her other hand was clenched tightly around the small Magen David that hung from her neck. Her eyes were closed, but Gibbs could the tension in her body, in the lines of her face as she worked to keep herself together.

Without a word, he approached her, ignoring the murmurs of disapproval from the other patrons. Ziva looked up at him a moment before he reached her, and as soon as he opened his arms to her she was turning into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. It only took a moment for the tears to start falling, dampening the front of his crisp, pressed dress shirt.

"It's all right, Ziva," he said softly. "It's okay." His hand ran lightly over her hair. "It's okay to be upset."

"I do not regret it," she told him, her voice muffled by his chest. "I am pleased to be a citizen, I am. I just-" She sniffed softly. "I-"

"It was your home," he finished for her.

"Yes," she said. "It was all I ever thought about, for so long, and now... I can never go back. Everything's changed, and now I will be a stranger in the land of my people, if I ever do go back. I love this country, but I wish I could still have Israel too."

"I know, Ziver," Gibbs reassured her. "That oath can't change what's in your heart. And it's okay if you love Israel. It's a part of you, and always will be." She pulled away from him at that, looking up at him with watery eyes. "All that oath does in ensure that your father can't get his hands on you again. That Israel won't ever become your prison. You're an American now, Ziver. And we take care of our own. You can stay here without threat of deportation or extradition."

"Which is good news for you," she said finally, her laugh little more than a coughing sniff. "It would be unfortunate if you had to leave the country again to go looking for someone you want to protect."

Gibbs grinned. "Damn straight," he returned firmly. "I'm not letting you go again. I already made that mistake once." His grin turned mischevous. "Now I can keep you close and make sure you don't get into trouble."

Ziva smiled, and Gibbs was sure that she had a number of quips he could hvae fired back at him, but she remained silent. Her fingers traveled the front of his shirt, tracing the buttons for a moment before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time her embrace was more gentle than fierce, and Gibbs could almost feel the calm creep over her once more after her brief moment of tumultuous doubt.

He returned the hug just as gently, and for a long moment he simply held her. Finally, she spoke, though her voice was so soft he almost missed it.

"Hm?" he intoned, wordlessly asking for clarification.

"I want to come home."

Gibbs froze for a split second in surprise, not expecting the sudden shift in topic. But then delight struck, and his lips spread in a grin that threatened to split his face in two.

"So do I," he whispered, fighting to keep his voice low. The result was a tone that cracked and trembled with barely concealed enthusiasm. "And you will. _We_ will." He paused, and pulled away slightly. "But as much as I would love to take you home right now, Abby would have both our heads if we stood her up."

"She would understand..."

"Yeah she would," Gibbs agreed. "But not before giving us both hell." He shot her a knowing grin. "Besides, now that you've said it, I'm wanting a cheesesteak myself."

"Double meat, double cheese," Ziva responded with a grin, reminding him of their preferred sandwich.

Gibbs nodded. "And double not kosher."

"Well, it is a good thing my Rabbi does not know my eating habits. Yet another perk of being an American, yes?" Ziva pulled away from him, wiping away the last of her tears as she pulled him along behind her. The moment of panic had passed, and she was back to her old self, her eyes twinkling.

"Now you're definitely thinking like a real American," Gibbs replied, trailing along behind her. "There's hope for you yet."

"Keep talking, and the first rule I instate at the house will be that Chaka gets your spot in bed, while you will be relegated to the couch."

Gibbs grinned, and closed the distance between them in order to wrap his arms around her one last time. She paused, leaning back into his embrace, and his lips tickled her ear as he whispered softly to her.

"I love you, Ziver."


End file.
